A/N: I'm
back! It's been a while, I know, but I
had to make the sequel to "The First Goodbye."
And here is chapter one!
Enjoy! If you haven't read "The
First Goodbye," you may be thoroughly confused.
The sequel concentrates on the span of time during the 1st and
3rd chapters of "The First Goodbye," which is essentially 5 years
after the last chapter… This is about a
year after the events in chapter 3. Okay,
now that it's all clarified, on with the sequel!
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The Last Goodbye
Chapter One: Escape
By Heather Michelle
The light bulb swung, shedding
only dim light across their "new home." Hermione
cringed upon entering the bunker. She knew
it was a necessary precaution; he would find her if she didn't hide. Her once magically-encrypted home with Ron
wasn't safe. Not to mention that she
never would be. She felt him through and through. He was always there, coursing through her
veins like fire, especially when he killed.
Her heart broke every single time.
Right now, she wondered if moving into this underground hellhole was the
best thing she could do.
Her trunk thudded the stained
concrete floor as her concentration on it faded. Her legs crashed to the ground and she clung
to the warm floor. Tears ran their
perpetuated trails down her cheek, across her nose, out of her heart. Her formerly bright yellow robes had worn
away; she claimed they were soiled by maturity.
How naïve she had been. She let
her feelings get in the way. No book
could have prepared her for the life she lived.
Nothing she had ever read made any mention of what to do when your best
friend (or more than that, even) turns into a wizard more powerful than Voldemort. Yes, it is ironic that it had only been a few
years ago that his name wasn't allowed to be mentioned. Now they had a new and greater evil. His killing spree was at an all-time high. Muggles were killed left, right, up, down and
in-between. Hermione could have saved
them. Every single face flashed across
her mind; all were contorted in terror at the fate that was soon to become of
them. All except one.
"Albus…" she whispered, afraid
that her breath would destroy his memory.
She felt herself being lifted.
Ron. A kiss on the forehead. There was placement on a cot. No one from the Ministry was left except for
Hermione and Ron. She wondered if Harry-
she cringed at the name. No, he wasn't
Harry. Not the evil man that had killed
millions. No, that was NOT her
Harry. At the same time, she knew that
she had unmade her Harry. Forgiveness
wasn't an option. She prayed he would
find her. She wanted to die with her victims. They were hers, not his, considering her selfishness. She had just wanted Harry. Wanted was most definitely the wrong
word. More like, say, needed. She tingled all over just thinking about
him. A malevolent wizard with a cold
heart? Never. Just a 16-year-old boy with eyes that could soften
the defensive shield she kept up.
Did he keep her alive out of
torture? She had tried to kill herself
at least 10 times in the past six months, but she couldn't do so without
destroying Harry, her life force and ironic savior. His existence pulled her back to life. She had to destroy him, or what had become of
him, rather, before she could be at peace.
Strangely enough, that's what she feared the most. What should she wish to be happy about? Either way, she would end it all.
Darkness had engulfed the
room. Hermione glanced at Ron, sleeping
on the faded green cot just a few feet from hers. She knew Ron had made restraints for her limbs
and head. She felt them, yet again, when
she pulled upward. She laughed out
loud. For a bad Hogwarts student, Ron
could sure tie knots, absolutely no magic involved. It was "too dangerous to use any," he
claimed, especially for Hermione. Her
self-destructive behavior had led to her captivity.
"Ron…. Psst! Ron!" she whispered. He turned, rubbed his eyes sleepily and asked
her what she wanted. "I'm just… lonely."
she replied cautiously, wondering if he could see through her façade. He got up, turning on the light. He then sighed, moving to sit on her cot. Tilting himself to face her, his right arm
straddled her body, the rest of him staying on the narrow left side of her
cot. He looked down at her, her eyes brimming
with tears. He brought his left hand up
to her face to wipe her soggy cheek. He
was, despite all of Hermione's daydreaming, all she had left. The only other man in her life killed people
for a living. Ron, on the other hand, well,
his job was taking care of her. She
loved both, and did so very differently.
She loved Ron for being a friend.
She had loved Harry for not only who he was, but who she was when she
was with him. She writhed against the fetters
Ron had placed on her, just to show him how helpless she felt.
"No, Hermione. No, you can't. I'm sorry."
Ron explained. She knew that he
wasn't going to let her go initially. He
loved her enough to know better. "I'm
going back to bed, 'Mione." he whispered, bending down to kiss her goodnight,
which he had expected to land on her forehead.
Little did he know that Hermione had moved. Straining, she pulled herself up on the cot
to meet his lips. Ron was stunned- they
hadn't kissed like this since… They had NEVER
kissed like this. It wasn't a friendly
kiss, not at all. Hermione's body arched
against his, and he lost his senses, or gained their full capacities all at
once- he wasn't sure. He couldn't think
about anything except how her body felt against him.
Hermione felt his arms
encircle her, frantically trying to pull her closer, but the restraints
held. She broke the kiss, keeping her
eyes closed as he kissed her once more.
She felt her left arm being released, and promptly moved it into his
hair- his funny-looking black hair. Why had she started to do this, again? She didn't even remember- all she knew, or in
this case, imagined, was that Harry was kissing her, needing her, feeling her,
desiring her. She fell into her own
fantasy as Ron cut off the other restraints and proceeded to kiss Hermione the
way she was kissing him- in an extremely lusty fashion. His ears weren't so red anymore- the awkward,
normally jovial Ron that Hermione had once known evaporated into thin air after
the severity of Harry's newfound position had been established.
He knew she was probably
thinking of him. He knew all too well. But for once, he wanted to believe that she
actually loved him. Living with
Hermione, broken as she was, wasn't exactly a joy ride, and it hurt Ron to know
that she could never feel the same way he did for her… But just being with her made him sane enough
to move on. And that he did. They got carried away by loneliness. The light bulb swayed above them, seemingly
aware that feelings undulated, even if they were misdirected, as it did.
